


Underwater Boogaloo

by SugarCookieBear



Series: Mermaid Purses [2]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Author is autistic (don’t expect good social cues), Bottom Lance (Voltron), Breeding, Dark Keith (Voltron), Eggpreg (Implied), M/M, Merpeople mate for life, Merperson Keith (Voltron), Merperson Lance (Voltron), Not predators tho, Possessive Behavior, Size Difference, Top Keith (Voltron), Yet another bonding moment forgotten
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-02
Updated: 2020-09-02
Packaged: 2021-03-06 16:47:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 961
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26252140
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SugarCookieBear/pseuds/SugarCookieBear
Summary: He pulled relaxing into the gentle rise and fall of his nest and—wait. Something clicked in his sleepy brain, waking him right the fuck up. His nest shouldn’t be moving.In fact, he wasn’t even supposed to be in a nest. It was mating season...wait.He had isolated himself, didn’t he?This wasn’t the spot he’d chosen. Where was he? He could feel fear setting in.———A continuation of “Playing with Food.”
Relationships: Keith/Lance (Voltron)
Series: Mermaid Purses [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1904443
Comments: 18
Kudos: 174





	Underwater Boogaloo

**Author's Note:**

> Fake scientific bs, but here:
> 
> The eggs develop rapidly and stay in the mother for about a month and a half. Oh yeah, and father’s species determines the size of ‘em, ‘cause I said so. Keith’s species have clutches of 4-5 eggs, each about the size of an emus when laid. Poor Lance.

  
Lance was not a morning person. His brain never worked, and he always woke up too early or too late, never able go back to sleep afterwards. Plus, his sleep schedule was so disorganized that he more often then not woke up not knowing the time.

On a bad day he was a grump to everyone in his path regardless of whether they had done anything.

He had a lot of bad days.

But sometimes, he didn’t have someone yelling or shaking him violently to get up (cough, cough, Veronica.) Instead, he was left to his own devices, content to just lay there, letting his brain catch up with his body. These were his favorite type of mornings.

Today, he woke up early. At least that’s what he thought, as it was darker, and there was a noticeable absence of a certain harpy yelling at him. It was a good thing too, because he felt really sore. His whole body ached, and there was an unrelenting pain in his tail. He felt bloated. He must have done something strenuous. Maybe it was later in day, and his family had let him rest. (Hey, a guy could dream, right?)

Dios. His muscles ached, and he just wanted to curl back up into the warmth that surrounded him. So he did. He pulled relaxing into the gentle rise and fall of his nest and—wait. Something clicked in his sleepy brain, waking him right the fuck up. His nest shouldn’t be moving.

In fact, he wasn’t even supposed to be in a nest. It was mating season...wait.

He had isolated himself, didn’t he?

This wasn’t the spot he’d chosen. Where was he? He could feel fear setting in.

He pulled open his eyes, attempting to get up, but finding he couldn’t. Something was holding him down. Panicking further, he craned his neck trying to see the offending object, only to become even more panicky.

He really  was bloated, his lower torso being heavily swelled with... something. It felt gooshywhen he tried to move his torso, and the pain in his tail got worse as well. He probably looked like he was about to lay eggs at any minute now. He could barely even see his tail. He tried pushing it to get free of whatever was preventing his escape. After giving up on that course of action, he switched to trying to slowly wiggle his way free.

After what felt like hours of painful struggling, he managed to free himself, which was a feat of great magnitude what with how big his stomach was. Every move was a pain in his tail (literally.) He wanted to get the quiznack out of there. Being careful, he made sure to swam a tail length away before he finally allowed himself to glance back...

Peeking over his shoulder, he was met with the yellow eyes of a predator floating right quiznacking behind him.

He tried to move, forgetting his handicaps in a moment of pure adrenaline filled terror, only to remember as the pain increased twofold when he tried to snap his tail to get a burst of speed.

“F-fuck.” He let out a pained whine. His mind was going through the stages of grief at light speed and- and- why was he not dead? He quickly peeked behind him to check, and wait. W-where did it—?

A sound of throat clearing in front of him. Lance practically jumped out of his scales, as he jerked his head back to face an admittedly unimpressed looking predator.

“Yah should be restin’, lil blue. Yer too slow to escape a predator like this,” the raven-haired threat murmured slowly.

Lance’s eyes narrowed. Something about that statement pissed him off. Maybe it was the fact he was probably going to die anyway, or something else, but he suddenly felt brave enough to be a smart ass.

“Firstly, name isn’t ‘Blue,’ it’s Lance, and secondly,  you’re the only predator I see here.” He snarked.

To his utter fury, the predator smirked, eyes flicking to Lance’s stomach, then back at his face. SMIRKED. What a douchebag.

“Keith.” the boy replied. “I ain’t the ones yah gotta be worried ’bout. I ain’t gun’ eat yah. Yer mine after all, and I protect what’s mine.”

It took him a few seconds to realize that the first part was the boy’s name. What a mundane name for a predator. He’d always imagined them having scary names like Spike, Fang, or Scar.

“Yours?” He asked mildy concerned, whilst raising an eyebrow.

Keith pulled Lance towards himself, easily maneuvering the smaller mer so that his back was pressed into the predator’s chest. Keith held his clawed hands over Lance’s front, rubbing the distended pouch with his palms. Lance gasped at the sloshing in his chest.

“Yes, doll, yer mine.” He cooed possessively in his ear.

Lance shivered as Keith began to kiss his way down his neck. Fuck. He let out a surprised moan as Keith mouthed at his scent glands.

“Don’t have tah worry ‘bout nothin no more. Just have tah take my cock like a good boy. Gun’a keep you safe and warm and fed.” The predator tells him.

Lance whines. “No....” he murmurs. He doesn’t want that. He wants his pod, his sisters, brothers, and his parents. He wants his best friend. He wants to be able to roam freely.

“Gon’a have such pretty babies fer me.” Keith says. “Gun’a breed yah again after this clutch is laid. Always gun’a keep yah nice'an full.” No. He doesn’t want pups that grow up as murderers.

“Smell so good, plugged up with my scent. Took it so well, was so nice and tight fer me.” No!

“My perfect little mate.”

This can’t be happening.


End file.
